The man's voice was low and magnetic.
His slender fingers pinched her delicate chin, and his eyes, as black as the deep sea, gazed at her, like a dark whirlpool, involuntarily drawing people in.
Lin Qian stood dazedly face to face with him, her heart fluttering as she saw the sincerity and tenderness in his captivating black eyes.
This man was a devilishly charming presence, always softening her heart when she was unguarded, no matter how hard a shell she had just built—it seemed to dissolve inch by inch in his tenderness.
Lin Qian bit her lip, forcing her gaze away from his face, and huffed, "I've already said it, you're not my anyone, and I have no right to meddle in your private matters. Qiao Xiya likes you, you..."
Before she could finish, Lin Qian felt her hand being seized, followed by a cool sensation on her finger as if encircled by some hard object.